Not Here
by Joker'sOnlyFear
Summary: The Joker and Jonathan FINALLY confront Harley about her knowledge of their secret! Will she make it out alive? The final? installment in the "Harlequin" series. Slightly explicit Joker/Crane slash.


_Author's Note: Continued the "dog-days-of-summer-in-Gotham-City" thing because I really didn't want to mess with having Jonathan in all his usual clothing for the Joker to take off in the bathroom scene. The following excuse allowing them to get in this situation can be taken really dirty, if you think about it hahaha._

* * *

The torridly scorching dog days of summer relentlessly plagued Gotham City, forcing the attendees of this months' conference room meeting to be less clad than usual: Catwoman was wearing a one-piece purple bathing suit (though she oddly still wore her cat-eared cowl and tinted aviation goggles). Poison Ivy sported a thin sundress that came down to about mid-thigh and seemed to be made entirely out of leaves, while Harley Quinn had once again donned the red-and-black bikini-high heels-and-harlequin hood ensemble she had used during her stripper days. Two-Face was clothed in a short-sleeved T-shirt, Bermudas, and flip-flops; and the as-usual-made-up Joker were both wearing wife-beaters and boxer shorts. The Penguin had of course refused to sport anything less than his usual black-and-white tails; this frequently inspired the others to make sexually explicit and often disturbingly graphic jokes about just how much he _loved_ his suits (_Bet he_ fucks_ 'em every night before he goes to bed. . .Oh, no, no, _no_, Harvey - that's what he does to his _birds_ - the poor things!. . .Hahahahahahaha. . .Good one, Harley. . ._).

In any case, the considerably pointless meeting - there really had been nothing much to discuss - was over rather quickly due to the heat, and the gang dispersed. Saying they would be down in a few minutes - providing the controversially _lame_ excuse that they had to "gather up some things" - all but two of the villains headed below to the basement kitchen to eat the snack Harley had prepared for them all.

Joker pulled his lover into the single-occupant men's restroom a little ways down the hall, shutting the door behind them as he pressed Jonathan's back up against it in a flurry of feverish kisses and thrusting hips.

As the clown had rightly come to expect, Jonathan began to protest between osculations. "Joker, _really_. . .This place is most unsanitary. . .What if someone walks in on us?. . .Not here. . .D-don't, s-s-s-sweetheart. . .P-please. . .N-not h-here. . ."

_Click_.

"_There_ - it's, it's uh, _locked_. Now, d-don't go getting your _drawers_ all in a bunch - else I may have to, uh, take them _ooo-oooff-uh_. Of _course_," Joker continued, pivoting their bodies one-hundred-and-eighty degrees and lightly slamming the base of Crane's spine into the rim of the washbasin, "I might, might just have to do that, uh, _anyways_."

Jonathan smiled, touched that his partner would once again consider his wishes for security during their intimacy (he had felt the lock to make sure Joker had indeed fastened it - for once the clown's stutter had made him feel slightly suspicious). Crane pulled his shirt up off over his head, tossing it to the floor as he turned around without further prodding, hands gripping the sides of the sink.

Joker hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his mate's last-remaining garment. He knew for a fact Crane really didn't much care for doing it this way - they had tried it during a lustful night of "exploration" not so long ago - but they really didn't have time for the slightly-more-complicated-to-execute cock-inside-cock intercourse that they both preferred to have.

Jonathan's boxers fluttered down around his scrawny ankles.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fearing he would not recognize the mewling blue-eyed kitten he would become when he came, tightening his grip on the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white, his tensed arms visibly shaking with anticipation and excitement as his stomach lurched.

Joker shuffled up closer behind Jonathan, humming tunelessly as he guided his member through the frontal opening in his boxers and rubbed it tauntingly across Crane's adorable lily-white ass.

Jonathan hastily clenched his teeth together and sealed his lips, bound and determined for nasal huffs to be the only sounds to escape him.

"Now _there's_ a good little bitch," Joker whispered, letting his charcoaled eyes flutter shut as he reached around to Crane's front with one hand, gently palming Jonathan's cock; both men's erection's pulsed in response, a moan forcing its way through Crane's nostrils.

"_Oooh_, Jonathan, you won't _believe_ how badly I want to _taste_ this. . ." Joker literally _sighed_ as he stroked his lover's organ with his thumb; Jonathan could barely suppress a squeal of arousal.

Finally, Joker withdrew his hand with agonizing slowness and lightly rested it with its mate on the doctor's bony hips. He gently mouthed Crane's earlobe, grazing his lips up against his lover's ear as he shifted to position himself for proper entry.

"And _here. . .we. . .g_-"

CRASH!

Jonathan's eyes flew open as both men spun round.

A small rectangular tape recorder was lying on the floor, having apparently been able to no longer maintain a no-doubt precarious balance on the top ledge of the narrow doorframe.

Closer inspection revealed an all-too-familiar name carved in curlicue letters on the top of the device.

_Harley Quinn_.

- - -

11:43 _post meridiem_. Same day.

The back of Harley's head was throbbing as though someone had taken a crowbar too it, which was what she thought had occurred - though in reality a cloth soaked in a soporific mixture had been pressed to her nose while she lay sleeping in bed.

This she would never know.

She tried to make herself more comfortable; ropes bound her to a hard wooden chair without parole, cutting into her bare midriff - she had been so tired (she was _not_ an all-nighter) that she wasn't even able to change into her pajamas before her head hit the pillow. She slowly lifted her head - a thousand lead weights were pressing it down onto her chest - and opened her eyes groggily.

The Scarecrow's _livid_ blue eyes bored into her, masked face inches from her own.

Harley jerked her head back in surprise, the bells on her hood jangling wildly. The Joker, standing a few feet behind and to the right of Jonathan, was the only other factor she recognized in their confined and shadow-filled surroundings.

"_How long have you known, Harley?_" Scarecrow's rasping voice was muffled through the burlap.

The jester wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Known what?"

Then came Jonathan's trademark impatient sigh, leaking through even his other half. "_About_ this" - and he pushed a button on a small tape recorder sitting on the table next to them (the lucky little player had only been scratched by its earlier fall).

Harley was forced to listen as the recorder mercilessly played back every moan, every whimper, every kiss, every one of Jonathan's weakly resistant pleas - everything.

"_And here. . .we. . .g_-" There was a moment of static after the crash.

And then. . .silence.

"_Who else knows, Harley?_" Icy orbs bulging behind the mask, Scarecrow screamed in rage. "_WHO KNOWS!_"

"No one!" Tears of despair welled in the slightly rash jester's eyes. "I didn't tell nobody! Even when I first saw you together in the kitchens back in September, I _swore_ to myself right then and there I wouldn't tell nobody!"

"_LIAR!_" Scarecrow shrieked.

"We, uh, _knew_ as soon as we saw the recorder was yours that you were going to try and, uh, _blackmail_ us, Harley." The Joker giggled.

"Do _not_ be so naïve as to think us _fools_, jester-girl." Scarecrow added this, his final warning as he switched places with the Joker so the clown could slip his favorite knife into Harley's mouth, the blade's serrated edge pressing out against the inside of her cheek, threatening wordlessly to rip, to tear, to shred.

"Do you wanna know _how_ I got these _scars?_" Joker inquired pleasantly.

Harley squeaked.

A giggle. "I didn't think so." A flick of the wrist -

And the Joker's maniacal laughter was the last thing Harley Quinn would ever hear.

END

* * *

_I know, I know, I killed Harley so I'm the meanest bitch ever! I take full blame. Kind of ironic how she dies in the very same clothes that she was wearing when she met Joker and Crane, isn't it? Yeah, with the "autographed" tape recorder-thing, let's just say loveable Harley just doesn't _think_ sometimes before she acts. I kinda didn't want to kill her off, either - but what's done is done. However, there's still hope - she could've always passed the secret on to someone else. . ._


End file.
